A Failed Attempt
by executing hallucinations
Summary: A year after the fall, John still hasn't adjusted...and he just can't take the pain anymore. Warning: suicide attempt.
1. Chapter 1

**A Failed Attempt**

**Author's Notes: **I do not own Sherlock or any of its contents blah blah blah, you guys know the drill!

Enjoy!

John Hamish Watson absorbed thei- _his_ flat one last time, truly taking in each detail. Since the day his best friend had taken his life, John had never felt the same. He had grown recluse, losing contact with each of his friends, not wanting to keep up the habits of an ordinary life. It made it a bit easier, just dropping the façade and allowing the depression to take over him…at least this way he wouldn't have to fake a smile. Every day had become an endless cycle of work, sleep, and therapy. During the first several months John had been expecting Sherlock to show up, but as the dust began to collect along the furniture and no sign of the familiar brunette appeared, he lost hope. He slowly accepted that the one person he had truly loved would never return.

John had never really expected Sherlock to return his affections while he was alive, but it least he was around; at least he was there to use his clever brain, there to compose hauntingly beautiful melodies across his violin, there to commence his absurd experiments, there to go on crazy adventures to solve cases, there to bring excitement into John's dull life, and even there just to be a pain in the arse. The unfamiliar sensation of a smile almost managed to creep up John's face at the thought of his flat mate, but quickly faded.

Today marked the year anniversary of the fall, and this weighed heavily on the young doctor. Throughout this past year, John had attempted to end his pain on several occasions, but he could never quiet follow through. The gun in his hands would always seem to feel heavy, symbolizing the weight of his decision, always causing him to lose his nerve. But there was something about today that seemed to cement his decision. All though he doubted Sherlock would ever agree with what he was about to do, it seemed like the only answer. Sherlock would probably want him to move on, leave Baker Street, find someone, build a family, and try to be happy. But that was impossible, because a blogger without his consulting detective was nothing.

He walked toward the door of 221B and slowly turned the knob, as he walked down the stairs he grasped the paper in his hands a little tighter. He had prepared his words carefully, this wasn't the first note he had written, but it would be the last. He placed the paper in between the door of 221A and thought of Mrs. Hudson. He knew this would be tough on her, and he highly regretted that. Losing both of her boys would be something that was hard to deal with, but she was tough, so he said a silent prayer asking for her forgiveness.

Outside a cab waited for him, he got in and instructed the cabbie to take him to a restaurant, he didn't want to throw off any warning signs by asking to go directly to a bridge. He figured, if Sherlock fell than he should too. He had followed Sherlock in everything else, so why not follow him in this? This final ride to his impending demise felt long and antagonizing slow, John was ready for everything to be over. He thought about his decision the whole ride, but nothing in this world could change his mind other than the one thing that caused the choice in the first place. He tried to come up with something that could make him stay, but eventually his thoughts would always drift back to Sherlock so by the end of the ride he was nearly in tears.

The cabbie pulled up to John's destination and he nearly threw the toll at the man; he was rushing at this point. In fear that he might change his mind he was practically running to the bridge. He knew he was drawing attention, but he would only need a moment to complete the task at hand. He used the hand bar in front of him for support as he put one leg, and then the other on the opposite side. He balanced himself and let out a deep breath.

He touched the soft blue scarf that used to belong to Sherlock that he had wrapped around his neck before leaving the flat and thought of Sherlock one last time, simply thinking _"I'm on my way, love." _Just as he let one foot dangle out, he could swear he heard Sherlock shout from behind him, yelling for him to not do this. As a doctor who knew the mind was capable of amazing things, and he was glad this his brain conjured up this last delusion in his final instants. He could die happy hearing his love with clarity in this last moment. Right as he propelled his body forward, he could almost feel those long slender fingers attempt to wrap around his arm. Then he was falling, plummeting towards his death and looking forward to seeing Sherlock once again.


	2. Chapter 2

"I do apologize about this, dearest brother. We took note of his living and working conditions on a regular basis, but if I had any idea he was this distraught I would ha –"Mycroft Holmes was cut off with a sudden painful blow to the back of the head. His brother had lifted him slightly off the ground and had him pinned against the wall by his neck.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN WATCHING CLOSER YOU IMBECILE! WHY DIDN'T YOU KEEP TABS LIKE I DIRECTED?! YOU HEARTLESS ARSEHOLE! IF HE DIES THIS IS INTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERY MINUTE OF IT!"

Knowing how his brother tended to overreact in situations pertaining to his former flat mate, he waited a moment for Sherlock to collect himself. Eventually he eased Mycroft off the wall and placed him back on his feet. He took several deep breathes and ran his hands roughly through his hair. He was still absolutely fuming, but he managed to contain his anger to ill thoughts rather than actions. "I apologize for hurting you, but if he doesn't make it…I will never forgive you Mycroft. Ever. I told you to watch closely and you should have listened, it's not like you to make a mistake like this."

"My sincerest apologies brother."

Currently, the Holmes boys were standing outside of a patient's door, belonging to one Doctor John Watson. Sherlock couldn't think rationally, the heavy smell of antiseptics and medication, the cascading lights, and the pure rage coursing through him completely clouded his mind. Along with the incredible amount of guilt weighing down on him with tremendous force; as much as the Consulting Detective would like to pin this incident on his idiot brother, he knew that most of the blame should be directed towards him. About eight months ago, the younger Holmes had faked his own suicide in an attempt to protect his friends and escape the awful situation placed on him by Moriarty; unfortunately this came with the price of concealing the truth from the one person he loved. If John were to find out he was alive, there would be a much greater chance of his demise, and Sherlock simply couldn't live with himself if that were to happen. Even though in his attempt to prevent his friend's death, it seems he in fact insured it.

The brunette had anticipated the possibility of the current circumstances happening, but he had relied on his brother to be on top of things – _His first mistake. _It appears that the young doctor had not taken the loss of his best friend well. He had fallen into a deep depression and, though he had carried on for quite some time, it appears the inevitable caught up with him. The loss was simply too much for the ex-military doctor, and he had attempted to take his own life. Sherlock had been on the bridge when John jumped. He had shouted as loud as he could and tried to grab John, but he was too late. Luckily, John had overestimated the height of the bridge and the depth of the water, so he didn't die, though he was severely injured.

The image of John stepping off the bridge was permanently etched into Sherlock's mind, his trembling hand letting go of his only support and his figure falling to the shallow water below. _This must've been how John felt_, Sherlock thought absently. He had been so sure that he would make it there in time; _John would fall into tears and maybe punch me, than everything would be ok. We would live together again, start up our cases again, and eventually more may have developed._ But now Sherlock had to try to stay in the moment, and just hope his best friend would survive to see the next day.

Sherlock continued his pacing, waiting for any news that would ease his mind. In the three hours since seeing John fall Sherlock had come up with 462 scenarios of how John could die. Thankfully, none of them had come into fruition so far. His quilt seemed to be growing by the minute. _If only I had told him sooner that it was all a ploy…but I couldn't risk his safety! Moriarty could've planned ahead; he could've been prepared for my cleverness. But why suicide?! I thought his pride would certainly outweigh his loss! It couldn't be _nearly_ as painful for the doctor as it had for me! Of course not, that would imply that John reciprocated feelings that only I possessed. Unless…no! Now is not the time for nonsense and wistful thinking. I need to focus. Try to think of the best way to come back into the doctor's life…surely that'll take his mind off things until his friend was conscious. _

The sight of Sherlock Holmes at this moment must have been an extremely frightening one. Distracted by his own thoughts, he continued to pace the small hallway in front of John's room. His height and general aura of strength added to the looming pace was enough to alarm even the strongest of heart. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were wild, his lips were pulled into a tight line, and he looked as if he was on the brink of insanity. While the other Homes stayed leaned against the hard wall, gently swaying his umbrella while keeping an eerily composed face.

After another hour of pure torture, a young doctor opened John's door and approached the Holmes brothers. Sherlock quickly stirred from his thoughts and all of his attention was focused on the word of his beloved. The doctor cleared his throat and looked at his clipboard before making eye contact and beginning his short speech. The Detective was relieved to hear that other than a broken wrist, several bruises, and a mild concussion, John would be fine. He asked if it was alright to visit his friend and after a few moments of heated debate and hesitation, he was finally allowed access.

John was still sleeping as Sherlock entered the room, he had not yet stirred from his extensive slumber, but his vitals were normal and it seemed as though it was time for him to awaken. He was lying in the hospital bed, the light beeping of the monitor showed John's steady heartbeat. The Detective walked over and took a seat in the chair next to the bed. Sherlock reached over and lightly gripped John's hand in his, the Doctor began to stir. The first thing his eyes landed on was Sherlock. The younger man observed the many emotions that crossed over John's face – _confusion, hurt, anger, realization, and pure joy. _The Detective didn't know what to expect of John's conclusion.

A large grin was spread across his face as John finally uttered two words: "It worked."


	3. Chapter 3

John didn't bother to look anywhere except at Sherlock. He couldn't even begin to hide his utter joy, a huge smile spread across his face and he breathed "it worked."

It only took Sherlock a moment to figure out what John had settled on as reality. "John you're confused, you're not dead. In fact, you're very much alive. I apologize for lying to you, I swear I mean it. I should never have put you through this; all of this is entirely my fault. And I hope one day you'll forgive me." Sherlock was going to continue but noticed John wasn't paying attention to a word he was saying; instead he was enjoying the moment.

"I wasn't sure if I would find you here, but I always knew you were good. Honestly, what would heaven be without my love? I'm so glad to see you again, to feel you again…god, you even _smell _as good as I remember. Oh I've missed you so much!" John gently lifted the hand that was settled in Sherlock's and planted a small kiss on it. "Oh how I've longed to do that…" if it were possible, John's smile seemed to grow even bigger.

Sherlock was glad he had decided to come into the room alone, or he was sure John would be enormously embarrassed. "John, would you ple – "

"Mmm, it feels so good to hear you say my name again, Sherlock." John said, still in what seem to be complete and total bliss. He took in the sight of Sherlock, noticing he looked a bit unkempt, but beautiful nonetheless. His black curls still descended over his face, his eyes were still as blue as the ocean, and his pale skin looked like gorgeous porcelain.

"John, please I – "

"You know, I had the fear that you wouldn't want to be here, that you didn't feel the same way…that I would end up alone. But you being here, it must mean you love me as well." John began to tug Sherlock's arm towards him when his hand had an uncomfortable pulling sensation. He looked down at the IV sticking his arm and quickly fell from the clouds he had been floating on. The room began to spin as he quickly released Sherlock's hand from his grasp, his breaths were shallow and his pulse began to lose control – the beeping behind him only amplified this. John quickly peered around and truly let his surroundings sink in.

_A hospital?! I'm in a hospital?! _"Oh god…oh god, oh god, oh god! I failed! Of course, leave it to John Watson to screw up killing himself and go absolutely bonkers!" He turned to look at Sherlock and seemed to soften slightly as he got lost in the deep oceanic eyes staring back at him. "At least my memory gave me the courtesy of capturing the details."

John lifted his hand and rested it across the younger man's face, lazily rubbing his thumb against the sharp cheek bone. Sherlock had to use much restraint to keep himself from leaning into the touch. He tried to rationalize the events of the past few minutes, _love? Me?_ But before he could begin to think, he first needed to clear things up for John.

"John?" Sherlock barely whispered. He got a slight "hmm" in response, seeming to stir John from his daze. "John, you're not dead. And you're not crazy. I had to fake my death to protect you…I do apologize for that. The fact that it led you to this…I'm so very sorry John."

"Oh…wow! I bet Sherlock would even be impressed, I have really captured you, love. Hmm, I really have missed you Sherlock. Even if this hallucination is all I get, I'm happy." Sherlock could see that John was half expecting him to disappear at any moment, that his mind would stop being so kind. But he needed to make him see the truth…_but how?_

"John, please listen to me!" Sherlock pressed, growing slightly frustrated that John wouldn't accept the truth. "You are _not _dead. I am _not _dead. You are _not_ crazy. And you are _not _hallucinating."

A confused look crossed John's face. "I…I don't –"

"Oh good god John!" Sherlock grabbed John's face in his own and kissed him; it was short, and chaste, and full of passion equally from both ends. Sherlock began to pull away, but John didn't want to let him go. Sherlock settled for pressing their foreheads together, holding deep eye contact. "Now do you believe me John?"

"I now know this has to be some kind of hallucination, there's no way the real Sherlock would do that!"

Sherlock stood up quickly, leaving a disappointed John reaching out for him, and let out an exacerbated grunt. "What will it take to convince you I'm real, John?!"

At that moment Sherlock heard the door open so he stood up and pulled away from John, trying to protect him from further embarrassment. Mycroft strode through the door and addressed John. "I'm terribly sorry about this John; I should've been keeping a closer eye on you. I should've known you would make a rash decision eventually."

"Oh, um, hello Mycroft…I wasn't expecting to see you. Did you uh…say keep an eye on me? I'm not your brother's flat mate anymore, that's not necessary. And it's fine; I got something good out of it in the end." John's eyes quickly glanced at what he believed to be his hallucination, and then turned back to Mycroft.

"Yes, I guess the return of my brother is quite the nice surprise. I must say, I don't like the means of it, but it was effective nonetheless."

John lost all color of his face, the truth dawning on him for the first time. "Wha – wha –" was all John managed to get out.

"Oh dear, did I say something?" Mycroft asked his brother with genuine worry, still feeling guilty about the whole incident.

"No, its fine brother," Sherlock began. "It's just that up until this point, John seemed to be under the pretense that I was a hallucination."

"Ah, I see. Well, I was simply checking on John's condition and giving my apologies. I must be off."

John wanted to reply but he appeared to no longer have the ability to speak, so Sherlock said his short farewell as his brother began to swagger out of the room, his umbrella acting as a cane by his side. Once he had left, John let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"You're…you're um…you're uh – "

"Yes John, I'm real." Sherlock cut off his bumbling friend, sitting back down and moving his hand back towards John's. Instead of the rejection he was expecting, John happily accepted the gesture. But then the truth really set in and anger began to bubble to the surface, his eyes were filled with pure rage, and Sherlock saw it. The taller man tried to pull away, tried to get far enough so the man couldn't take his anger out on him; but John had his hand and was not letting go.

"A year, Sherlock! A bloody YEAR you were gone! A YEAR WITH NO SIGN THAT YOU WERE ALIVE?! YOU COULD'VE GIVEN ME A SIGN, A PHONE CALL, ANYTHING!" his grip was steadily tightening on the Detective, grasping to the point of pain. "WHAT'VE YOU GOT TO SAY SHERLOCK? I TRIED TO KILL MYSELF TO BE WITH YOU AGAIN! I TRIED TO KILL MYSELF BECAUSE I SODDING LOVE YOU!"

John completely froze, his grip loosened and he looked up at his friend. "Did you hear me Sherlock…" John barely breathed. "I love you."

Sherlock didn't know the best way to approach the situation, so instead of words, he bent down and placed a kiss on the other man's lips. It wasn't intense and feverish like the last one; it was slow and sweet and said everything he couldn't. He pulled away and sat down, looking John straight in the eyes.

"John…I really truly am sorry. I'm so sorry I can't even begin to – "

"It's fine Sherlock…I forgive you."

Sherlock sat on edge, waiting for John to continue. There were several moments of silent before he was ready to speak again.

"Of course you do realize the anger will come out every once in a while." They both broke out in smiles and laughter, Sherlock sat beside John in his hospital bed. He took the other man's hand once more, stroking his thumb lazily over the broken man's skin.

"John, I love you." Sherlock said, looking into his eyes.

"I love you too, you complete idiot." John pulled Sherlock back down into a kiss, they both relished in the moment. All though neither of them liked how they got here, they were just happy to finally have each other back.

~ I'm still fairly new to writing fanfiction so please review and tell me what you think! All criticism is welcome and appreciated, thanks! ~


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